Insert standard disclaimer here

They said he moved like a cat, deadly graces and lithe muscles. But cats don't walk with the caution of man, of one hunted and looking over his shoulder. Cats arrogance ensures an untroubled life, the kind of life that the man has never been privileged enough to bear.

More like a lizard than a man, or a cat. Slow when no great importance is shown, with a snap of deadly force when necessary. Yes, the man named Riddick was more like a snake than a cat, in more ways than one.

You make it so easy when you're making it rough

He moved through the crowd gently parting those in front with a hand to the shoulder. In the dim club lights and the damaging beat of the bass, which was all that was needed, concert etiquette demanded that one step aside for so polite a request. It was an old Doro song, covered by a new age heavy metal, the wale of the lead guitar distracted him for a moment, it sounded like a woman's shriek of pleasure, and Riddick had cause to know that sound well.

You won't make no promises but you can't get enough

His muscles bunched tight under his long sleeved black shirt, a girl behind tilted her head slightly to admire his butt and how well he wore army fatigues, before returning to her fantasies about the lead singer and her in a hot tub on Matura IV.

His baldhead reflected the stage lights and seemed very out of place amongst the metal heads attending. Most had hair longer than their shoulder blades; very few had hair as short as their ears. Riddick stopped as a young man was pushed violently from the crowd in the center. He was falling, but the crowd surrounding reached out hands, grabbing any piece of clothing they could, before pushing him mercilessly back into the fray. He jumped once, and then joyfully plowed his fist into a fellow concertgoers stomach. Riddick smirked, pushed a few people from the sidelines into the mosh pit, and lifted his head to watch the bass player as he shook his heavy brown hair back and proceeded to caress the stings lovingly.

I feel like I'm standing in the headlights beam

"Time to die." He muttered as he made his way towards the sidelines, it would be unfortunate to be trampled by the metal heads when one of their idols met his maker.

A hand to his shoulder made him shift slightly, giving the person room to get through. But the hand stayed in place, so his eyes rolled to his left slowly. It was a small hand, deceptively delicate with large silver rings in the shapes of skulls and Celtic knots adorning.

You're comin' on like thunder

I know what this means

The index finger tapped lightly as his gaze ran from the top of her spiky black hair, past the slanted black eyes, the full pouting lips, and the silver key that hung around her neck. It twinkled as the strobe light began to flash, his mouth went dry and her fingers tightened on his shoulder as she spun him around to face her fully.
She wore ripped jeans and a black shirt similar to his own, but hers was sizes too large, and hung loosely on a torso that almost none knew housed pure muscle and tough skin. Riddick knew, and desperately wanted to leave before she could remind him. A faked kick and short jab were both avoided and blocked skillfully before her hand released his shoulder and grabbed onto his wrist. She spun under his arm and twisted his hand to his back, shoving him against the wall. He sighed as she leaned in, her lips brushed his ear,

"Tag." She chuckled as she bit him.

It's unholy love

Oh can't you see

This unholy love

You know it's killing me

He shoved his foot against the wall, pushing back and breaking her hold, but not before grabbing her neck and spinning her back to the wall. He pressed his thumb against her pulse point and was not shocked to feel it beat steadily. This chick had no fear, but her hatred for him shone out of eyes that glared into his own. He could see her perfectly in the almost smothering darkness, she licked her lips and clenched her teeth as he increased the pressure.

The sting of confusion Then a kiss from your lips

Her arms hung limply at her sides as he moved in closer. His mouth brushed her ear, sending a shiver of loathing down her spine before she heard him chuckle deeply.

You don't make it painless

And you don't make it quick

"I've got a job to do sweetheart, I'll play with you later." And with that her arms came up, a shiv clenched in both. He dodged the swipes, and jumped back into the crowd. She wouldn't bring knives into a situation like that, she was too nice, but Riddick bent to adjust his boots, and brought up a shiv of his own. She was following him, pushing between the audience, keeping him in sight. He paused right before the mosh pit, stepped aside, shot out his hand, and grabbed her arm.

I hold on forever

Til I feel the sweet rush start...

"Have fun!" he shouted as she lost her balance. Hands reached down to help her up, others pushed her deeper into the chaos. "Now, back to work." He once again made his way to the sidelines, a loud bang, out of sinc with the drums, and a pained moan not a part of the vocals, distracted the lead. He trailed off and looked around, but there was nothing unusual in the audience. The speakers must have malfunctioned, he shrugged as the bass line went dead.

"Mickey!" he growled as he spun around to check on his guitarist. But the young man, his skin already pale, had become sheet white, his fingers fumbled as he struggled to lift the bass off his shoulders, and his head shook in disbelief. A girl in the audience screamed, and the blood dripping from Mickey's side pooled steadily on the wood finished stage.

The rest of the musicians fumbled as fans raced forward to watch or try to help. Dozens of people shouted at their cells, demanding ambulances, more started crying or moaning in disbelief. One girl stood still and glared at the stage. He was gone, he'd killed and left, and now she would have to start all over again.

"So?" the question came from a kid lounging on the couch. Reading a magazine that had more to do with motor oil and grease than what Richard thought a normal teenage girl would read.

"So what?" he growled as he unhooked his boots and walked into the room in his socks.

"Sew buttons, what d'you mean so what?" Jack looked at him and glared. Her hair had grown some since she'd shaved it off, imitating him, but she still kept it short so no one could grab it. She'd had enough of long hair in her short life, and learned that the best defense, when you had the choice, was running away.

"I did a job, you don't need to know about it kid." He grumbled as he pulled his shirt over his head. Jack glared at his spine, noted the slight discoloration at his shoulder before getting to her feet.

"I need to know what you do Riddick. I might not be there when you work, but I need to know if I'm ever going to contribute." She started the argument Riddick always cut off.

"You're never going to, so you don't need to know." He flung the shirt across the room and glared at her with eyes reflecting silver in the dim light coming from the reading lamp.

"Riddick." Jack picked up the shirt and placed it in the hamper calmly. "I'm not naïve. I want to help."

"We'll see." He rubbed his hand over his head, annoyed at the stubble that had seemingly popped up from nowhere. "Jack..." he sighed.

"I'll get the razor." She went into the bathroom the studio boasted, and rummaged in his bag. She pushed aside what seemed like a million shivs, all sheathed in crude leather, black shirts, and dozens of packets of eye drops, grabbed his shave kit and some eye drops just in case.

"Thanks." Riddick sat on the coffee table and had his elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Head back." Jack stood behind him and tapped his bare shoulder, "Open eyes." Riddick stared at the ceiling as Jack administered the numbing drops. "They itching again?"

"Just need some sleep." Riddick grumbled as Jack tossed the empty packet in the trash.

"Yeah, maybe you should take something. I know you don't like it," she said before he could object, "but I've heard you tossing after I turn out the light, you're not sleeping at all are you?"

Riddick was silent as she lathered his head and began to scrape the growth off.

Somebody please say a prayer for me


I'm feeling lost and there's no hope

In sight

Tryin to hold on to the vision

So hard when you're down

I'd trade an ounce of hard earned

Wisdom just to get out

Riddick let his breath even out as Jack sang to herself. The kid was a whiz at electronic gizmos and engineering shit, though she couldn't aim worth shit, could never seem to keep a job and enjoyed mouthing off to anyone who would take offense. But she could sing.

You'll never know til you've been broken

With the weight of the world in your


Don't want to know

Heart full of sorrow

Nobody loves you when you're broken

Broken down

"That's sad." Riddick said before thinking. Jack paused shaving right behind his ear.

"You get bit by a bug or something?" The tiny scrape was a little puffy, but the scab over it looked a bit big to be natural. "Hold on." Jack took a finger nail and scraped it gently over the scab. It came away easily and perched on her finger innocently. "Um... Riddick?" she leaned forward, resting on his back as she brought it into his line of sight.

"Fuck!" Riddick studied the scrap and pulled it off Jacks finger. "She's coming." He flung the tiny transmitter out the window and detored to the bathroom to wipe the soap from his head.

"Who's coming?" Jack asked as he began to fling things into his pack.

"Pack up!" Riddick growled.

"Is this another thing I don't need to know?" Jack jumped over to the chest of drawers to grab her clothes as Riddick glared at her.

"A bounty hunter, I thought I evaded earlier."


"Yes, she." Riddick growled, "Damn bitch never lost my scent."

The woman paused outside the door, drew her stun gun and set it on full. It would probably kill him, but she didn't really care. The transmitter stopped working a minute ago, but he'd not had enough time to leave since then. Taking her fist she pounded once on the door.

"Come out Riddick. I know you're in there." She called. There was a pause before a small, feminine voice answered.

"I think you've got the wrong room." She paused, thinking that maybe Riddick was a sick bastard, but that young a girl he'd never gone for before.

"I do not, now open the door before I kick it in."

"Yeah right." The girl scoffed, "That's a solid metal door..." which was as far as the protest went before she slapped a mini explosive to the joints and ducked behind a corner to activate it.

"Down!" She heard Riddick command before the door blew into the room. As the smoke cleared the woman stepped into the empty doorway and aimed her gun carefully at the back of the bald head ducked behind the couch.

"Up Riddick." She ordered. She gestured with the gun, "You too." The small girl had been cradled protectively in Riddick's arms, as she rose she glared defiantly.

"Bitch." The kid muttered.

"That's right. Knees Riddick."

"Fuck you." He growled.

"No thanks."

"You're still mad at me?" Riddick rolled his eyes, "I couldn't pay you back, Johns fucking got me."

"Fucking got you is right. Can't even keep your pants up when you've got a million bounty on your shiny scalp."

"I'll pay you back when I can get to my cash." He crossed his arms and leaned against the couch.

"Where have I heard that before?" She mused, "Oh, right, the first time you blew up my ship!"

"Come on Pa..."

"Don't even." She warned. He held his hands up in surrender.

"Ok, then, what am I allowed to call you?"

"You call me Rieder, you try act all huggy with me I'll give you something to distract you." She gave him credit as she aimed a shot between his legs, scorching a tiny hole into the back of the couch. He didn't even jump a bit. The girl in the corner watched the byplay with a small smile on her face.

"Johns got you cause..." she started to laugh as he glared at her.

"Jack." He said shortly.

"Yeah?" she sputtered.

"Pack, now."

"All right... Stud." Jack snorted as he curled his lip and sighed.